On: Newest Fashion Accessory

This has been the best allergy season I've ever experienced. I don't mean to salt the wounds of those of you who are assaulted by your local pollens, but this is the first Spring that hasn't sent me into fits of sneezing! Yes! Thank you allergy shots!

However, the one thing my allergy shots are powerless against are... bees. Virginia has exploded with flowers in the last few weeks, and where there are flowers, there are bees. I'm pretty sure this premise was the inspiration for Field of Dreams : if you blossom, they will come.

=

Look at them... so smug.

We can't forget the return of the Cicada Killer Wasps at Georgetown either:


Since I have never been stung, Jon and I decided that asking my doctor about an Epi Pen would be a good decision. During my last visit, he agreed that having one on hand would be a good idea anyway, because of the peanut allergy.

So after a "quick" trip to the pharmacy (I know few trips to the pharmacy that are quick--the poor pharmacy techs deserve some kind of medal, or hazard pay for some of the surly customers they have to help), I am now the owner of an Epi pen. Huzzah.

On: Sunday! Hallelujah!

I think this is the first Easter that has really resonated with me.

Don't get me wrong, I have understood the significance of Easter--the meaning behind the holiday. For some reason, this year, Easter seemed more significant.

I was pumped to wake up this morning, knowing that in a few hours, we would be singing with thousands of other people, celebrating the resurrection of the man who gave his life for my benefit. For your benefit. This morning, it made total sense: this is the most significant event in the history of the world.

Yesterday, Jon and I were reading Luke's account of the resurrection, but this morning, I couldn't help thinking about 1 Timothy 1:15--

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-of whom I am the worst.

I feel you, Paul.

Perhaps it's because I'm a little older now. With age comes the opportunity to make mistakes--and I've made some really spectacular mistakes. The good news is that God always (yes, ALWAYS) reserves the right to show mercy and compassion. The good news is that Christ came to save me, in spite of my mistakes. How much more thankful I feel, now, knowing that Christ destroyed the junk in my life and is alive, because nothing is too overwhelming for him. He makes things right. That's a reality worthy of singing. Loudly.

I had such a good time watching our choir this morning--a rainbow of faces. Lovely Asian women, unafraid of busting a move while they sung, beautiful Indian women in brightly colored saris, young, old, all singing at the top of their lungs. I wanted to explode, it was so powerful. "He's alive! Alive! Alive hallelujah! Alive! Praise and glory to the Lamb! Alive! Alive! Alive hallelujah! Alive forever amen!"

As our service drew to a close, Lon (our pastor) raised an important question: who's buried in Christ's tomb? I'm sure you've heard the joke, "who's buried in Grant's tomb?" The answer to the previous question is one that--I'm embarrassed to admit--I have never really stopped to ponder until this morning. The answer is a resounding: NO ONE! Is anyone else blown away by this? I know I am. Our sermon closed this morning with a quote that I thought was amusing, "Follow a dead savior, and you'll end up just like him (or her, to be PC)." Oh snap.

I love knowing that our savior is alive and attentive.

He is risen indeed.

What is she talking about? Has she finally lost it? See: Matthew 28:1-7, or Mark 16:1-8, or John 20:1-9, or Luke 24.